The two new friends met as soon as they came down in the morning. The ceremonies of the day began with reciprocal embraces, about which it was impossible for Aurora to be squeamish, for then Don Felix must have dropped the mask altogether. They went out and walked about town arm in arm, attended by Chilindrón, Don Lewis’s footman, and myself. We loitered about the gates of the university, looking at some posting-bills and advertisements of new publications. There were a good many people amusing themselves, like us, with reading over the contents of these placards. Among the rest, my eye was caught by a little fellow who was giving his opinion very learnedly on the works exposed for sale. I observed him to be heard with profound attention, and could not help remarking how amply he deserved it in his own opinion. He was evidently a complete coxcomb, of an arrogant and dictatorial stamp, the common curse of your gentry under size.

“This new translation of Horace,” said he, “announced here to the public in letters of a yard long, is a prose work, executed by an old college author. The students have taken a great fancy to the book, so as to carry off four editions; but not a copy has been bought by any man of taste!”

His criticisms were scarcely more candid on any of the other books: he mauled them every one without mercy. It was easy enough to see he was an author! I should not have been sorry to have stayed out his harangue, but Don Lewis and Don Felix were not to be left in the lurch. Now, they took as little pleasure in this gentleman’s remarks as they felt interest in the books which he was Scaligerizing, so that they took a quiet leave of him and the university.

We returned home at dinnertime. My mistress sat down at table with Pacheco, and dexterously turned the conversation on her private concerns. “My father,” said she, “is a younger branch of the Mendoza family, settled at Toledo, and my mother is own sister to Doña Kimena de Guzmán, who came to Salamanca some days ago on an affair of business, with her niece Aurora, only daughter of Don Vincent de Guzmán, whom possibly you might be acqainted with.”

“No,” answered Don Lewis; “but I have often heard of him, as well as of your cousin Aurora. Is it true what they say of her? Her wit and beauty are reported to be unrivalled.”

“As for wit,” replied Don Felix, “she certainly is not wanting, for she has taken great pains to cultivate her mind; but her beauty is by no means to be boasted of⁠—indeed we are thought to be very much alike.”

“If that is the case,” exclaimed Pacheco, “she cannot be behindhand with her reputation. Your features are regular, your complexion almost too fine for a man: your cousin must be an absolute enchantress. I should like to see and converse with her.”

“That you shall, if I have any interest in the family, and this very day, too,” replied the little Proteus of a Mendoza. “We will go and see my aunt after dinner.”

My mistress took the first opportunity of changing the topic and conversing on indifferent subjects. In the afternoon, while the two friends were getting ready to go and call on Doña Kimena, I played the scout, and ran before to prepare the duenna for her visitors. But there was no time to be lost on my return, for Don Felix was waiting for me to attend Don Lewis and him on their way to his aunt’s. No sooner had they stepped over the threshold than they were encountered by the adroit old lady, making signs to them to walk as softly as possible. “Hush! hush!” said she, in a low voice; “you waken my niece. Ever since yesterday; she has had a dreadful headache, but is just now a little better; and the poor girl has been taking a little sleep for the last quarter of an hour.”

“I am sorry for this unlucky accident,” said Mendoza; “I was in hopes we should have seen my cousin; besides, I meant to have introduced my friend Pacheco.”

“There is no such great hurry on that account,” answered Ortiz, with a significant smile; “and if that is all, you may defer it till tomorrow.” The gentlemen did not trouble the old lady with a long visit, but took their leave as soon as they decently could.

Don Lewis took us to see a young gentleman of his acquaintance, by name Don Gabriel de Pedros. There we stayed the remainder of the day, and took our suppers. About two o’clock in the morning we sallied forth on our return home. We had got about halfway, when we stumbled against something on the ground, and discovered two men stretched at their length in the street. We concluded they had fallen under the knife of the assassin, and stopped to assist them, if yet within reach of assistance. As we were looking about to inform ourselves of their condition as nearly as the darkness of the night would allow, the patrol came up. The officer took us at first for the murderers, and ordered his people to surround us; but he mended his opinion of us on the sound of our voices, and by favor of a dark lantern held up to the face of Mendoza and Pacheco. His myrmidons, by his direction, examined the two men, whom our fancies had painted as in the agonies of death; but it turned out to be a fat licenciate with his servant, both of them overtaken in their cups, and not dead, but dead drunk.

“Gentlemen,” exclaimed one of the posse, “this jolly fellow is an acquaintance of mine. What! do you not know Señor Guyomer the licentiate, head of our university? With all his imperfections he is a great character⁠—a man of superior genius. He is as staunch as a hound at a philosophical dispute, and his words flow like a gutter after a hailstorm. He has but three foibles in which he indulges: intoxication, litigation, and fornication. He is now returning from supper at his Isabella’s, whence, the more is the pity, the drunk was leading the drunk, and they both fell into the kennel. Before the good licentiate came to the headship this happened continually. Though manners make the man, honors, you perceive, do not always mend the manners.” We left these drunkards in custody of the patrol, who carried them safe home, and betook ourselves to our lodging and our beds.

Don Felix and Don Lewis were stirring about midday. Aurora de Guzmán was the first topic of their conversation. “Gil Blas,” said my mistress to me, “run to my aunt, Doña Kimena, and ask if there is any admission for Señor Pacheco and me today, we want to see my cousin.”

Off I went to acquit myself of this commission, or rather to concert the plan of the campaign with the duenna. We had no sooner laid our heads together to the purpose intended, than I was once more at the elbow of the false Mendoza. “Sir,” quoth I, “your cousin Aurora has got about wonderfully. She enjoined me from her own lips to acquaint you that your visit could not be otherwise than highly acceptable, and Doña Kimena desired me to assure Señor Pacheco that any friend of yours would always meet with a hospitable reception.”

These last words evidently tickled Don Lewis’s fancy. My mistress saw that the bait was swallowed, and prepared herself to haul the prey to shore. Just before dinner, a servant made his appearance from Señora Kimena, and said to Don Felix, “My lord, a man from Toledo has been inquiring after you, and has left this note at your aunt’s house.”

The pretended Mendoza opened it, and read the contents aloud to the following effect: “If your father and family still live in your remembrance, and you wish to hear of their concerns, do not fail, on the receipt of this, to call at the Black Horse, near the university.” “I am too much interested,” said he, “in these proffered communications, not to satisfy my curiosity at once. Without ceremony, Pacheco, you must excuse me for the present; if I am not back again here within two hours, you may find your way by yourself to my aunt’s; I will join the party in the evening. You recollect Gil Blas’ message from Doña Kimena; the visit is no more than what will be expected from you.” After having thrown out this hint, he left the room, and ordered me to follow him.

It can scarcely be necessary to apprise the reader, that instead of marching down to the Black Horse, we filed off to our other quarters. The moment that we got within doors, Aurora tore off her artificial hair, washed the charcoal from her eyebrows, resumed her female attire, and shone in all her natural charms, a lovely, dark-complexioned girl. So complete, indeed, had been her disguise that Aurora and Don Felix could never have been suspected of identity. The lady seemed to have the advantage of the gentleman even in stature, thanks to a good high pair of heels, to which she was not a little indebted. It was her first business to heighten her personal graces with all the embellishments of art; after which she looked out for Don Lewis, in a state of agitation, compounded of fear and hope. One instant she felt confident in her wit and beauty; the next, she anticipated the failure of her attempt. Ortiz, on her part, set her best foot foremost, and was determined to play up to my mistress. As for me, Pacheco was not to see my knave’s face till the last act of the farce, for which the great actors are always reserved, to unravel the intricacy of the plot; so I went out immediately after dinner.

In short, the puppet-show was all adjusted against Don Lewis’s arrival. He experienced a very gracious reception from the old lady, in amends for whose tediousness he was blessed with two or three hours of Aurora’s delightful conversation. When they had been together long enough, in popped I, with a message to the enamoured spark. “My lord, my master Don Felix begs you ten thousand pardons, but he cannot have the pleasure of waiting on you here this evening. He is with three men of Toledo, from whom he cannot possibly get away.”

“O! the wicked little rogue,” exclaimed Doña Kimena; “as sure as a gun, then, he is going to make a night of it.”

“No, madam,” replied I, “they are deeply engaged in very serious business. He is really distressed that he cannot pay his respects, and commissioned me to say everything proper to your ladyship and Doña Aurora.”

“O! I will have none of his excuses,” pouted out my mistress; “he knows very well that I have been indisposed, and might show some slight degree of feeling for so near a relation. As a punishment, he shall not come near me for this fortnight.”

“Nay, madam,” interposed Don Lewis, “such a sentence is too severe. Don Felix’s fate is but too pitiable, in having been deprived of your society this evening.”

They bandied about their fine speeches on these little topics of gallantry for some time, and then Pacheco withdrew. The lovely Aurora metamorphosed herself in a twinkling, and resumed her swashing outside. The grass did not grow under her feet while she was running to the other lodging. “I have a million of apologies to make, my dear friend,” said she to Don Lewis, “for not giving you the meeting at my aunt’s; but there was no getting rid of the tiresome people I was with. However, there is one comfort, you have had so much the more leisure to look about you, and criticise my cousin’s beauty. Well, and how do you like her?”

“She is a most lovely creature,” answered Pacheco. “You were in the right to claim a resemblance to her. I never saw more correspondent features: the very same cast of countenance, the eyes exactly alike, the mouth evidently a family feature, and the tone of voice scarcely to be distinguished. The likeness, however, goes no further, for Aurora is taller than you, she is brown and you are fair, you are a jolly fellow, she has a little touch of the demure; so that you are not altogether the male and female Sosias. As for good sense,” continued he, “if an angel from heaven were to whisper wisdom in one ear, and your cousin her mortal chitchat in the other, I am afraid the angel might whistle for an audience. In a word, Aurora is all-accomplished.”

Señor Pacheco uttered these last words with so earnest an expression, that Don Felix said with a smile: “My friend, I advise you to stay away from Doña Kimena’s; it will be more for your peace of mind. Aurora de Guzmán may set your wits a wandering, and inspire a passion⁠ ⁠…”

“I have no need of seeing her again,” interrupted he, “to become distractedly enamoured of her.”

“I am sorry for you,” replied the pretended Mendoza, “for you are not a man to be seriously caught, and my cousin is not to be made a fool of, take my word for it. She would never encourage a lover whose designs were otherwise than honorable.”

“Otherwise than honorable!” retorted Don Lewis; “who could have the audacity to form such on a lady of her rank and character? As for me, I should esteem myself the happiest of mankind, could she be prevailed on to favor my addresses, and link her fate with mine.”

“Since those are your sentiments,” rejoined Don Felix, “you may command my services. Yes, I will go heart and hand with you in the business. All my interest in Aurora shall be yours, and by tomorrow morning I will commence an attack on my aunt, whose good word has more influence than you may think.”

Pacheco returned his thanks with the best air possible to this young go-between, and we were all agog at the promising appearance of our stratagem. On the following day we found the means of heightening the dramatic effect by entangling the plot a little more. My mistress, after having waited on Doña Kimena, as if to speak a good word in favor of the suitor, came back with the result of the interview. “I have spoken to my aunt,” said she, “but it was as much as I could do to make her hear your proposal with patience. She was primed and loaded against you. Some good-natured friend in the dark has painted you out for a reprobate; but I took your part with some little quickness, and at length succeeded in vindicating your moral character from the attack it had sustained.”

“This is not all,” continued Aurora. “You had better enter on the subject with my aunt in my presence; we shall be able to make something of her between us.” Pacheco was all impatience to insinuate himself into the good graces of Doña Kimena; nor was the opportunity deferred beyond the next morning. Our amphibious Mendoza escorted him into the presence of Dame Ortiz, where such a conversation passed between the trio as put fire and tow to the combustible heart of Don Lewis. Kimena, a veteran performer, took the cue of sympathy at every expression of tenderness, and promised the enamoured youth that it should not be her fault if his plea with her niece was urged in vain. Pacheco threw himself at the feet of so good an aunt, and thanked her for all her favors.

In this stage of the business Don Felix asked if his cousin was up. “No,” replied the Duenna, “she is still in bed, and is not likely to be downstairs while you stay; but call again after dinner, and you shall have a tête-à-tête with her to your heart’s content.” It is easy to imagine that so coming on a proposal from the dragon which was to guard this inaccessible treasure, produced its full complement of joy in the heart of Don Lewis. The remainder of the long morning had nothing to do but to be sworn at! He went back to his own lodging with Mendoza, who was not a little enraptured to observe, with the scrutinizing eye of a mistress under the disguise of a friend, all the symptoms of an incurable amorous infirmity.

Their tongues run on no earthly subject but Aurora. When they had done dinner, Don Felix said to Pacheco: “A thought has just struck me. It would not be amiss for me to go to my aunt’s a few minutes before you; I will get to speak to my cousin in private, and pry, if it be possible, into every fold and winding of her heart, as far as your interests are concerned.”

Don Lewis just chimed in with this idea, so that he suffered his friend to set out first, and did not follow him till an hour afterwards. My mistress availed herself so diligently of the interval, that she was tricked out as a lady from heel to point before the arrival of her lover. “I beg pardon,” said the poor abused inamorato, after having paid his compliments to Aurora and the duenna, “I took it for granted Don Felix would be here.”

“You will see him in a few seconds,” answered Doña Kimena; “he is writing in my closet.”

Pacheco was easily put off with the excuse, and found his time pass cheerfully in conversation with the ladies. And yet, notwithstanding the presence of all his soul held dear, it seemed very strange that hour after hour glided away but no Mendoza stepped forth from the closet! He could not help remarking, that the gentleman’s correspondence must be unusually voluminous, when Aurora’s features all at once assumed the broader contour of a laugh, with a delightfully provoking question to Don Lewis: “Is it possible that love can be so blind as not to detect the glaring imposition by which it has been deluded? Has my real self made so faint an impression on your senses, that a flaxen peruke and a pencilled eyebrow could carry the farce to such a height as this? But the masquerade is over now, Pacheco,” continued she, resuming an air of gravity; “you are to learn that Don Felix de Mendoza and Aurora de Guzmán are but one and the same person.”

It was not enough to discover to him all the springs and contrivances by which he had been duped; she confessed the motives of tender partiality that led her to the attempt, and detailed the progress of the plot to the winding up of the catastrophe. Don Lewis scarcely knew whether to be most astonished or delighted at the recital; at my mistress’s feet he thus uttered the transports of his fond applause: “Ah! lovely Aurora, can I believe myself indeed the happy mortal on whom your favors have been so lavished? What can I do to make you amends for them? My affection, were this life eternal, could scarcely pay the price.”

These pretty speeches were followed by a thousand others of the same quality and texture; after which, the lovers descended a little nearer to common sense, and began planning the rational and human means of arriving at the accomplishment of their wishes. It was resolved that we should set out without loss of time for Madrid, where marriage was to drop the curtain on the last act of our comedy. This purpose was executed in the spirit of impatience which conceived it, so that Don Lewis was united to my mistress in a fortnight, and the nuptial ceremonies were graced with the usual accompaniments of music, feasting, balls, and rejoicings, without either end or respite.